


hey cutea

by emilieee



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: AU August, F/M, Fluff, IDENTITY SHENANIGANS, Identity Reveal, LadyNoir - Freeform, Marichat, adrienette - Freeform, boba au, cafe au lowkey, they're both dumb with no brain cells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:27:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25732822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilieee/pseuds/emilieee
Summary: In which Marinette brings Adrien to a bubble tea shop only to witness him order the most unappetizing flavour on the menu.All’s well until Chat Noir does the exact same, and Ladybug makes an unsuspecting connection.Tikki is also very unamused. If only they’d stop dancing around each other.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 73
Kudos: 603





	hey cutea

**Author's Note:**

> im so late that i had to change this for ladynoir july --> au yeah august and im STILL late lol

The shop is called  _ Thirstea,  _ a pun which makes Adrien laugh for a whole thirty seconds as he stares at the storefront.

“Seriously,” Marinette is saying as he pushes the door open for her. “You’ve seriously  _ never  _ had boba? At all?” 

Adrien shifts his backpack. He’s hit with the smell of something sweet—foreign, as well, but it’s pleasant enough—and the sight of a bustling interior. A small line has already formed, so Marinette tugs him aside and points at the large menu displayed on a colorful board behind the cashier. 

“You can decide on which flavour you want,” she tells him. 

Adrien peers up at the board. There’s  _ so many  _ to choose from—hundreds, even—from milk tea to fruit tea to mixed flavours and smoothies and… 

His head is spinning when he turns back to Marinette. “Do you have any recommendations?”  _ Because I have absolutely no clue.  _ “What do you usually get?” 

She tilts her head. “I have five go-tos. Roasted milk tea is a classic, but the honeydew milk tea is pretty good as well if I want something fruity. If I want something lighter, I’ll get a fruit tea—I like lychee black tea. Uh… there’s also the real fruit bobas, and I usually get taro. Oh! And the matcha latte is one of their best. And I usually get it with tapioca, but if you want to be healthier, grass jelly or aloe vera both taste pretty good. But I mean, it  _ is  _ your first time here and you should probably try getting tapioca just to see if you like it. And brown sugar milk tea, but they said they ran out today…” 

The words go in one ear and out another, because Adrien is too busy staring at the way she talks: enthusiasm shining in her eyes, the way she waves her hands in the smallest, cutest gestures to make her point, and… 

“Adrien?” Marinette tilts her head. “Um, have you decided? Or do you need more time? Because that’s completely alright too.” 

In a panic, he nods and blurts, “I’ve decided!” 

She nods sagely, and they enter the line. Adrien has not yet in fact decided. 

He continues to stare at the menu from the corner of his eyes, going through all the categories until he settles on  _ real fruit smoothie.  _ Adrien goes through the list: watermelon, strawberry, mango, peach, blueberry, raspberry, winter melon—

“What would you like to order?” 

Adrien snaps back into reality. He is  _ not  _ ready to order. 

Oblivious to his conundrum, Marinette smiles at the cashier and fetches her wallet out of her backup. “I’m paying for us both!” she tells the girl cheerily. “I’ll have a peach green tea with half ice and thirty percent sugar. With tapioca.” 

Adrien gawks at her order. She’d lost him after  _ peach green tea— _ is  _ he  _ supposed to order like that too? 

“Adrien?” Marinette prompts, now waiting for the order that he does not have. 

He squints at the menu again, hoping his panic isn’t visible on his face. He scans them. Watermelon. Strawberry. Mango. Peach. Blueberry. Raspberry. Winter melon. Durian. 

Durian. 

“Durian,” he settles. 

Marinette’s mouth quite literally drops open. 

He’s not too certain what’s  _ that  _ surprising about his order—is it the wrong thing to order? Perhaps it doesn’t exist on the menu and he’d hallucinated it. A double-check later and the word is still clearly imprinted underneath  _ winter melon.  _ “Marinette?” Adrien asks carefully. “Um, I’m not too sure about the sugar and ice—which do you usually choose?” 

She finally snaps her mouth shut. “Durian?” Marinette echoes at last, ignoring his question.“Ah, are you certain about that?” 

Adrien nods. “I can still add the pearls—the tapioca in, right?” 

“Yeah,” she agrees absentmindedly, “but—durian?” 

Adrien takes another peek at the menu. “The real fruit smoothie, right?” 

“Have you… tried durian?”    
“When I was younger, once. Have you?” 

Marinette swallows, and Adrien waits for her verdict, concerned. He’s honestly baffled why she’s so confused about his choice, but a moment later, Marinette squares her shoulders and gives the cashier a smile, this time slightly shaky. “And a durian smoothie with tapioca for him. Um, sugar and ice levels?” 

Adrien has no clue  _ what  _ to ask for, so he tries, “The standard one for both...?” 

Apparently that’s an acceptable answer because the cashier nods and jots down his order on a small notepad. Marinette pays, and they wait at the side for their order. 

Marinette has gone quiet. She sorts through her bag for a little while, and Adrien waits in apprehensive silence. There’s quiet jazz music playing in the background and it makes him feel like he’s in an elevator. It’s becoming unbearably awkward. 

Finally, Marinette lifts her eyes to look at him. “Sorry about that,” she apologizes. “I just… didn’t know you liked durian.” 

“Oh.” He sounds equally awkward. “I liked the fruit the last time I had it which was about two years ago. Do you not like it?” 

Her nose wrinkles. It’s cute.  _ Wait, what?  _

“My mom  _ really  _ likes durian,” Marinette is explaining, and she motions with her hands again. “Apparently her hometown back in China had a dessert store that sold durian pastries and she had this  _ brilliant  _ idea of making them for Chinese New Year a couple months ago and the whole bakery  _ reeked  _ of durian and I could smell it all the way up into my room—” She clamps a hand over her mouth. “Sorry. I forgot you liked it.” 

“No, I’m the one who should be sorry,” he replies, flustered. Marinette has a habit of saying  _ a lot  _ in very little time and it doesn’t help that he gets easily distracted by her movements. “I didn’t realize durian was so… controversial. I hope it won’t make you uncomfortable or something with the smell.” 

“I guess it’s not that popular here,” she replies with a shrug. “But my mom did say that people either hate or love durian. And the smell’s fine. I don’t like it, but once you spend a week with it stinking up your room, you kind of develop immunity.” 

Just then, the waitress behind the counter sets down their two drinks. “For Marinette?” she calls. 

Marinette takes the bag with a quick  _ thank you,  _ grabs two straws, and then returns to Adrien. She holds up their drinks. 

Adrien takes the cup from her extended hand. The durian smoothie is a creamy white, and the black tapioca bubbles sit at the very bottom. He follows her movements as she shakes her cup then stabs a straw into it.

He can see Marinette eying him in his periphery as he raises the straw to his lips and takes a sip. The drink is cold and sweet and has a rich taste that explodes on his tongue in a plethora of flavours, and Adrien decides he likes it. He  _ really  _ likes it. 

“So?” Marinette asks. Adrien wonders if she knows how skeptical her expression is. “Do you… like it?” 

He chews on one of the pieces of tapioca. “Yes. Yeah, this is really great.” 

The skepticism doesn’t disappear from her face, but she raises her boba to his. “Cheers,” Marinette says weakly. 

***

On a good day, a cup of boba has two hundred fifty calories when the tapioca is replaced by grass jelly and the sugar level is brought to less than half. On a bad day, if her sweet tooth demands regular sweetness and tapioca, it can be driven up to seven hundred calories. 

It’s why Marinette has begrudgingly limited herself—for the sake of her wallet and health—to only drink boba once a week. 

And it’s why she and Chat Noir, decked in hoodies and track pants in an attempt to look normal, are lined up underneath the blazing sun at  _ Thirstea.  _

Their disguises don’t do much, because a crowd has formed around them. First there are whispers of  _ is that Ladybug and Chat Noir,  _ then a girl summons up her courage to ask for a selfie, and finally, the press starts driving in. By the time that happens, they have luckily made it inside the shop, where the air-conditioning blasts out on the highest setting. 

Another  _ snap  _ of the camera. Chat Noir is staring pensively at the menu when a thought hits Ladybug. “Have you ever had boba before?” she asks him. 

He nods absentmindedly, still looking. Everyone in line is whispering or peering at them, and Ladybug sees a phone held up in the back, most likely recording. 

They make it to the counter when Nadja Chamack and her team, armed with cameras and microphones, invades the shop. The girl at the register looks slightly overwhelmed and a little alarmed, but she doesn’t tell the press to leave. 

“Ladybug!” Nadja calls. “You’ve been photographed once or twice coming to this shop in the past month—is this your favourite bubble tea shop?” 

“Yup!” she replies. 

“What’s your go-to order?” 

“Depends on the day.” Ladybug turns back to the cashier, leaving Chat to deal with the press. He has the uncanny ability to drag on a brief topic for an unsolicitedly long amount of time. “I’ll have an original milk tea with tapioca,” she tells the cashier. “Regular ice and seventy percent sugar.” 

The girl looks a little starstruck, but she jots down the order. With a tug on Chat’s tail, he turns around from entertaining the press to place his own order. 

“One durian smoothie, please!” he chirps, chipper as always. 

Ladybug chokes on air. 

The girl taking their order also seems taken aback, but her recovery time is much quicker than Ladybug’s. Instead, offering him a quick, slightly strained smile, she jots his order down. “Is that all, then?” 

Chat takes the chance to pay for both of their orders while she’s caught in her confusion. By the time Ladybug snaps back to her senses, it’s too late—Chat is already pulling aside to wait for their bobas to finish. Nadja and her crew take the chance to start their questions again. 

“Chat Noir,” Nadja addresses when it’s clear Ladybug’s still out of commission. “If I heard you right, you chose a durian smoothie?” 

He gives a nod so proud that Ladybug swears she dies a little inside. 

“Could you tell us why? From what I know, durian is a well-debated fruit. Many people love it, but many also cannot stand the smell.” 

Chat ponders the question thoughtfully. “The smell  _ is  _ rather funny,” he finally replies. “But I like the flavour! It has a very rich texture as well, and tastes pretty different from the smell, so it doesn’t actually  _ taste  _ bad.” 

“Ladybug?” Nadja gestures for the cameras to face her. “What are your thoughts on durian?” 

She’s too busy thinking about Adrien Agreste raising his cup of boba to bump against hers—a  _ durian smoothie— _ and his casual enthusiasm for the fruit that Nadja’s words don’t even click in her brain. Who would’ve expected Chat Noir to have the same (terrible) taste as her crush? The coincidence leaves her feeling disjointed. 

“Uh… Ladybug?” Chat waves his hand in front of her. “Are you okay?” 

She finally snaps out of her reverie long enough to scramble for a response. Ladybug manages a sheepish smile in Nadja’s direction. “I’m doing fine, thank you.” 

Chat frowns. “Ladybug, that wasn’t her question—” 

Before either of them can say anything more, the girl making the drinks pops her head out from the counter. “Your drinks!” she says, then beams at both of them. “Here’s a buy-one-get-one free coupon! Please come by often!” 

Chat’s eyes glimmer when he accepts his durian smoothie. Ladybug takes her own with much less enthusiasm. Focus is hard enough with the snap of Nadja’s cameras and the chaos all around them—the fact that an even larger crowd has gathered outside  _ Thirstea  _ in order to catch a glimpse of their favourite superheroes makes it worse. It’s all too much to take in, and Ladybug’s brain is still stuck on Adrien Agreste and Chat Noir and durian smoothies. 

“We’re going to take off,” Chat tells Nadja, then waves at the camera. “See you guys around! Come on, LB.” 

She allows him to drag her out of the store, then with a flick of his baton and a snap of her yo-yo they’re swinging off, bobas in hand and the rest of Paris watching them go. 

But Ladybug isn’t thinking about them at all. 

When they finally settle down somewhere secluded, Chat immediately stabs his straw through the top of his drink and takes an obnoxiously loud slurp. Ladybug can smell the scent of durian from where she’s sitting, and instinctively, she wrinkles her nose and shifts away. She pokes her straw into her own drink, still staring off at the distance. 

A coincidence, yeah. Her crush and her partner both have awful taste in bubble tea flavours. It’s nothing but a coincidence. 

“Are you going to drink yours?” Chat is asking, still slurping obliviously. “I wanna try your flavour.” 

He makes a grab for her drink, and Ladybug ducks away. “Your breath smells like durian. You can’t drink from my straw.” 

“Hey! Let me try!” 

For a little while Chat wrestles for her drink, nearly spilling his own in the process. In the end he snatches out from her fingers, laughing raucously. Ladybug is giggling as well, forgetting about her predicament for the moment. This is what she’s used to; their routine of banter and playfulness that’s  _ easy— _ it’s straightforward. Not confusing. 

That snaps her right back to the problem. Chat sips her drink, smacking his lips in a purposefully annoying way, and makes his verdict. “Not bad. I like mine better. Wanna try?” 

Ladybug shakes her head and reclaims her drink. As casually as possible, she asks, “Do you get boba often?” 

“Mm, no. This is actually the second time I’ve gotten the drink.” He swirls his straw around. “Honestly, with all the percentages you give for the sugar and the ice, I’m not too sure what to say. My friend took me to get boba a little while ago, so…durian is actually the only flavour I’ve ever tried.” 

A casual dump of information, information that really wouldn’t have meant anything. It’s vague enough that  _ any other  _ person wouldn’t have made any sort of connection; it’s the information they often share between each other. 

Except for the fact that she—Ladybug, Marinette—might be the friend in question. And Chat Noir—Chat Noir is… 

She stares across the building, where an ad of  _ Adrien, the Fragrance  _ is displayed. 

_ No way.  _

“Um,” Ladybug stammers. “Your friend took you out for boba because you’ve never had it before?” 

He’s painfully oblivious to her panic. “Yeah, about a week ago. You know, it’s pretty funny because she had a similar reaction to you when I ordered the durian smoothie. Apparently she hates the smell too.” 

“Your friend?” Ladybug echoes. 

“Yeah, my friend. Are you okay, m’lady?” 

_ Can’t really breathe properly, so I’m not really okay, but youcan’tknowandIdon’treallyknowwhat’sgoingonrightnow— _

“I, um, just realized I have something to do,” Ladybug stammers out, because it’s the only thing she can think of saying. She flails, but somehow manages to get to her feet. “Uh—uh, do you want my milk tea? I can’t swing around very well if I’m holding it because it might get on my suit and my hair—oh my  _ God,  _ my hair! I got ice cream once and tried to eat it while going around Paris on my yo-yo and it went  _ so  _ badly and honestly I feel like the bubble tea will do the same so you can drink mine too since I can just get another one by myself soon but I really gotta run—” 

She all but shoves the cup into his confused hands. It’s a whole miracle Chat doesn’t drop it then and there, just like it’s a miracle Ladybug hasn’t screamed or slipped up or promptly tripped over air and simply… lay there crying. 

“Ladybug–” she hears him call, but it’s interrupted by the  _ zing  _ of her yo-yo.

She takes off as fast as possible. 

Marinette has never been so hasty in detransforming, but as she slips through the rooftop back into her room, she’s already calling Tikki out before she touches down onto her bed. She slams onto pillows and the soft mattress in her regular clothing, buries her face into the nearest cushion, and screams. 

She really doesn’t deserve Tikki’s patience, but her kwami stays beside her and pats her with tiny paws until Marinette’s throat is hoarse and she has more or less yelled the remaining cinders of her panic and confusion into her pillow. 

When Marinette finally raises her head to look at Tikki, her kwami has her hands on her hips. “Well?” she asks. “I didn’t want to interrupt your breakdown, but now that you’re through, can you tell me what it’s about?” 

Marinette thinks about the cup of boba and the boy she’d left back on the roof. Then the one that sits in front of her in class, with the same shade of blonde hair and emerald eyes, both ordering durian boba. 

“I think Chat Noir is Adrien Agreste,” she tells Tikki weakly. 

Tikki has a scarily-good poker face. “Have you now,” she replies with calmness Marinette is incapable of. “And why do you think so?” 

“Because—because—because they both like  _ durian!”  _ It comes out as a distressed wail. 

Tikki ponders the question. Then replies, “I see.” 

It’s such an awfully vague response that Marinette is tempted to bury her face into her pillow to scream some more. But she doesn’t, instead pulling out her notebook from the stand and a pencil. “I’m going to draw a venn diagram,” she announces with newfound determination. “I might just be jumping to a conclusion too quickly. And—and there was that one time when Chat was there but Adrien was too, right? When Gorizilla attacked?”

“Right,” Tikki agrees. “But you also did a similar trick with Multimouse and the fox Miraculous, so…” 

“Chat didn’t have the fox  _ or  _ mouse Miraculous. Anyway… they both have blonde hair and green eyes.” 

She puts that in the  _ similar  _ column. She thinks about it for a couple seconds more, and writes “composed” in Adrien’s column and “a mess” in Chat’s. 

“Oh, come on.” Tikki flits closer. “You know very well Adrien isn’t as composed as you make him out to be. The only reason you don’t recognize it is because you’re even  _ worse  _ around him.” 

Marinette stubbornly keeps those two where they are, even if she knows deep down that Tikki is right. For a while, she goes on making her list, with Tikki criticizing almost every decision she makes. Adrien Agreste has neat hair, a polite smile, the best grades in class and manners that would woo anyone’s parents. Chat Noir’s hair is messy and untamed, his smile is almost always accompanied with a raucous laugh and  _ shutting up  _ isn’t in his vocabulary. He steals food and drinks and everything he can from her whenever she brings it. 

She scribbles and erases and thinks and stresses, getting a week’s worth of confusion down and then some. 

“Marinette,” Tikki finally advises when Marinette has run out of ink. “Why don’t you just ask Adrien tomorrow at school subtly about it? If he didn’t mind telling Ladybug he went out for boba with Marinette, he probably wouldn't have qualms telling Marinette about getting boba with Ladybug. It’s not as if your identities need to remain a secret anymore.” 

Ask Adrien. 

_ Ask Adrien.  _

Sure, they’re on good terms now. They’re friends. Marinette’s crush has faded into a more manageable level, and she can talk to him without her voice rising an octave higher than its usual key. She hasn’t tripped and fallen on her face in front of him for at least two weeks. 

But  _ this— _ with the possibility that  _ Adrien Agreste  _ is Chat Noir? To think she’d waxed poetic about Chat Noir to Tikki every night for months? It’s unspeakably insane to think about, and she doesn’t have the courage and probably never will but Marinette thinks she’s genuinely going to die if she doesn’t get closure—

“Okay,” she agrees at last, because it’s the only logical answer. 

***

Adrien is the one who comes to find Marinette before she can go find him. 

“Hey!” he calls from behind her. 

In a quite frankly astonishing display of improvement, Marinette doesn’t scream or fall on her face, even if she does freeze for a good couple seconds too long. 

“Uh… Marinette?” Adrien taps her shoulder. “I wanted to return the physics notes to you. You gave me your notebook from last time because I missed the class. Here.” 

She takes the notes from him, movements stiff. A million words to say come piling from her throat, but they stick to the top of her mouth drily and none make it past her lips. 

_ Adrien Agreste. Chat Noir. They’re the same person? How can they be the same person? Is it just a huge coincidence? Who  _ is  _ Chat Noir? Who am I, even?  _

Before she can work herself into more of a panic, Marinette gives him a forced smile, hugging her notebook to her chest. “Thanks!” she shrieks. “I gotta—I gotta run. See you around!” 

She trips over air on her way out, face beetroot. 

***

“Listen,” Tikki whispers to her, munching on her cookie as Marinette locks herself in a stall of the girls’ washroom. “You gotta do it. Just… just don’t think that he’s Adrien Agreste. I heard imagining people as potatoes helps with stage fright?” 

Marinette lets out a distressed noise. “Stage fright isn’t my problem, though!” 

“Adrien fright? If you ask me, it’s pretty similar. Anyway, just ask him if he’s had bubble tea recently or something! You don’t know until you try. It won’t be that bad. What’s the worst case scenario?” 

“That  _ you-know-who  _ turns out to be  _ you-know-who!”  _

“We did  _ not  _ decide on these codenames.” 

“Yeah, but what if someone hears—” 

Tikki interrupts her by giving her a little pinch. “Calm down, Marinette! It’ll be fine. Besides, is it  _ really  _ that big of a problem if it’s true?” 

No, it isn’t. Marinette has thought long and hard about it last night, lying awake on her bed, unable to sleep because of the heat and turbulent thoughts and theories all mixing together. Would it be a bad thing, if Chat turned out to be Adrien? No—she could think of a thousand more worse people for Chat to be, and if she were to be perfectly honest, no better person than Adrien. But at the same time, it’s overwhelming in the strangest way: the sort that sends her heartbeat spiking, thoughts scattering, stomach turning in a not-quite-unpleasant way. 

Marinette really doesn’t know what to think about it, and that’s the scariest part. 

“Okay.” Tikki interrupts her train of thought. “We should probably get going before you’re late for class. If you hurry, you can probably ask Adrien about it before the bell goes off.” 

Marinette steels her back. “Okay,” she grinds out with wavering determination. “Okay, I’m gonna do it.” 

Tikki lets out a squeak of  _ Attagirl!  _ before diving back into her purse. Marinette marches out of the stall, down the hallway, and into the classroom. 

She  _ really  _ hates the way her throat  _ still  _ closes up when she scans the room and her eyes land on Adrien. All of a sudden, she’s reverted to herself months ago, when her crush on him had reached its peak; when she’d been a jumble of frayed nerves and blabbering and hand motions violent enough to whack any bystander that wandered too close. 

_ No,  _ Marinette tells herself firmly.  _ No freaking out. No stuttering. I’m past that.  _

“Adrien,” she calls, and he turns away from his conversation with Nino. 

“Hey!” his smile is a thousand watts too bright. “We were just talking about you. Nino said he’s never tried boba as well.” 

The word boba nearly has her choking on spit. “Cool,” Marinette manages out. “That’s very… cool.” 

Nino’s eyebrows furrow. “You okay?” 

“Fine! Th-that’s great you want to introduce Nino to boba as well! I’m glad to hear you liked the drink.” 

Marinette’s well aware that she sounds like a buffering tape-recorder right now. She marches to her desk, sits down just as stiffly, and pinches herself on the arm, out of Adrien and Nino’s sight. Alya has yet to arrive—it’s now or never, Marinette knows. The longer she waits, the more nervous she’ll make herself, and the harder it’ll be. So… 

“Adrien!” she blurts out again, voice too loud. Even Rose and Juleka leave their conversation briefly to glance at her. 

He’s good-natured as ever when he turns to her, and Marinette is struck with another wave of trepidation. It’s all too sudden. It’s all too much. She takes a deep breath, mind turning to absolute mush, and somehow stammers out, “Have you gotten boba since that one time?” 

She really can’t blame him for looking so confused at her question, but to Adrien’s credit, he regains his composure rather quickly. The bewilderment on his face quickly shifts to mild curiosity. 

“Yeah,” he replies. “I actually went yesterday with a friend. Thank you for introducing me! I’ll probably go more often now if I find the time.” 

Marinette’s mouth is dry. Her hands are sweaty. Her head feels like it’s going to explode. Her heart has moved to her throat and she’s positive that it’s going to stop beating any moment now. 

“Oh.” It’s the only noise Marinette feels mentally capable of forming. Sentences are hard. Speaking is impossible. “Um, yesterday?” 

“Yeah, it was pretty hot yesterday. I went to  _ Thirstea,  _ actually!” He scratches the back of his neck. “I mean, it’s the only boba shop I know at the moment so it doesn’t really mean anything, but… my friend who I went with really liked it too, so I think I’ll stick to  _ Thirstea  _ for now. Until I try all the flavours I want.” 

Amidst her own confusion, Marinette somehow manages to think,  _ if you wanted to try all the flavours you wanted why did you get durian  _ again  _ yesterday?  _ It’s second nature: if the boy in front of her is Chat Noir—a fact that, despite the inconclusive results given by her venn diagram, is becoming more and more clear—then Marinette can’t  _ help  _ but want to tease him back. 

Except if Adrien Agreste is Chat Noir and Chat Noir is Adrien…  _ God.  _ She’s just going in circles and getting nowhere closer to the final destination. 

It doesn’t even hit Marinette that she hasn’t responded to Adrien and that’s why he’s staring at her so apprehensively. The shrill ringing of the bell startles all the class back into their seats, Adrien included, who shoots her a small smile before turning back around. 

The rest of the period finds Marinette unable to pay the slightest bit attention. Mme. Bustier’s words travel in one ear, out the other, all muted static compared to the main problem at hand. 

And a problem it is. She looks at Adrien’s golden head in front of her, imagining the flicker of black ears. If she reached down and mussed his hair up, it would look like Chat’s. They’re the same height too, to think of it. All the differences she had listed on her venn diagram seem to melt away, until Marinette is faced with one terrible, wonderful, conclusion. 

***

She doesn’t confront Adrien about anything after the first period ends, nor does she at lunch, nor after. It’s too overwhelming to think of, but it hardly seems fair to keep him in the dark. When she asks Tikki to confirm at lunch, the only thing her kwami does is shrug with an indecipherable expression on her face—Marinette takes it as a verification. 

But it’s a different story after school. By then, Marinette has made up her mind. 

Her first stop is  _ Thirstea.  _ It’s not as sweltering as it were the day before, even if she has to wipe the sweat from her forehead after waiting fifteen minutes outside. The store isn’t as bustling now that Ladybug and Chat Noir aren’t there, so Marinette takes advantage of the peace to calm her thoughts. They have patrol in thirty minutes; she has thirty minutes to gather her thoughts and figure out how she’s going to come through with this. But is thirty minutes really going to help? She’s had the whole day alone to her thoughts, and, like it or not, she’s barely gotten anywhere. 

When she finally gets her order—a fruit tea for herself, a durian smoothie for Chat Noir— _ Adrien Agreste— _ there’s only twenty three minutes to go. 

Marinette transforms into Ladybug, hidden in an alley, and goes to wait for her partner to show up on the rooftop they agreed to. Then, once she’s reached the rooftop, she calls off her transformation. 

The boba is still cold in her bag, so she wraps her hand around them to fend off the blistering heat from the sun. It’s uncomfortable, waiting like this, but physical discomfort is still better than working up a storm in her own thoughts, which Marinette is trying to distance herself from. They come in waves of stress, anxiousness, uncertainty, and fear. But she  _ has  _ to do this. 

Her mood must’ve been evident enough for Tikki to feel, even though her kwami has slipped inside her purse to give her thoughts some space. She pokes her head out. 

“Marinette,” Tikki says, a hint of concern in her tone. “You don’t have to do this now if you’re not ready, you know. Chat Noir will understand.” 

Marinette, having resorted to biting her nails—she must be  _ really  _ nervous, because that’s a habit she’d gotten rid of years ago—shakes her head. “I can’t keep pushing it back. It’s one thing not revealing each other’s identities, but now that I know… I can’t just… not tell him. It’s not possibly fair, not when he’s waited for so long.” 

“...are you happy that it’s Adrien?” This question is more tentative, quieter. 

Marinette props her chin in her hands and stares at the skyline. Is she happy that it’s Adrien? 

“Yeah,” she replies. “Yeah, I am.” 

***

Chat Noir vaults over onto the roof, and he’s six minutes early. Marinette sees him before he sees her; she watches him look around for a couple of seconds, slightly confused. 

She takes a deep breath and steps out of the shade of the door. “Chat Noir!” she calls. 

He jumps around. “M’lady, you—” 

His voice trails off. “M-marinette? I—uh, hi! I wasn’t expecting to see you here. I was actually going to find Ladybug but I might’ve gotten the wrong building! What—what, uh, are you doing up here?” 

After a day of planning out the words to say, it’s rather funny how she can’t even form a semblance of the sentences she’s thought up. 

It’s also a miracle in and of itself that she doesn’t stutter, panic, or go absolutely speechless. Even if her script lays lost and forgotten in the back of her head, Marinette says in a surprisingly steady voice, “I was actually waiting for you.” 

Chat Noir doesn’t move from where he’s standing, so she heads towards him. “Did… Ladybug tell you I was going to be here?” 

“Uhmh,” is the noise that makes its way out of Marinette’s mouth. She clears her throat and tries again. “I brought you boba because it’s hot today,” she explains. “I also wanted to talk to you.” 

She sees it behind his eyes; questions, confusion, but most importantly, the beginning notes of a realization. 

“Wait.” He doesn’t budge from his spot, eying her cautiously. “What do you want to talk about?” 

“About the fact that you’re probably Adrien Agreste?” 

Even the air, laden with the heat of the day, seems to still between them. Marinette looks up at him, and his reaction is the only confirmation she needs that she is indeed right. 

Chat Noir’s reaction is less loud than she had expected. It’s shock, probably, the stage that Marinette has been stuck in for the good part of the day, because he still remains frozen. Then, in a shaky uncertain voice, he asks, “Ladybug?” 

Her next breath escapes her in the form of a huff, a half-choked laugh. “We’re idiots.” 

His lips lift into a wavering smile. “What.” 

And then Marinette is laughing, because it’s so  _ stupid.  _ All the pent-up emotions come tumbling out uncontrollably and she’s laughing and laughing, doubling over and clutching at her stomach and nearly dropping her bag of their boba drinks. 

Through her own giggles, she hears Chat mumble, “ _ Oh my God,”  _ and the way he says it makes everything all the more hilarious. 

When Marinette finally gathers herself enough to straighten, she’s wiping tears from her eyes. Chat Noir is watching her, although his expression has softened into something that looks suspiciously close to fondness. 

“Is this why you asked me about boba this morning?” he questions. “If I’d gone to get it with a friend?” 

Marinette gives her eyes one last wipe. “Yeah. I just—when you ordered durian boba yesterday and all that you said—it was too suspicious for me to ignore.” 

“Oh.” He tugs his hands through his hair—messy golden hair, how hadn’t she noticed how similar Chat and Adrien always were?—and lets out another groan. “ _ Oh.  _ I’m  _ dumb.”  _

“You could’ve been any other person if I hadn’t been, well, me,” Marinette points out. “Tikki told me it’s due time, anyway. But yes, you’re dumb. So am I.” 

“My identity got exposed because I ordered a durian smoothie?” 

“Basically, yeah.” 

“ _ Oh my God.”  _

She’s beginning to see why Tikki had found it endlessly amusing watching her panic. Instead of further antagonizing Chat, Marinette reaches into her bag to take out his durian smoothie. She stuffs it into his arms, and he’s too confused to do anything but accept the drink and the straw it comes with.

“Don’t worry,” she reassures him before she can stop herself. “I won’t tell anyone that number one model Adrien Agreste runs around Paris in a leather catsuit. My lips are sealed.” 

The moment the words leave Marineette’s mouth, she feels her face heat up. It’s one thing to tease him before, now it feels like she’s treading on the edge of a cliff with a long, long drop. He’s still her partner, but there’s another aspect that they will figure out—with time, undoubtedly—and  _ now  _ is too soon to push it so much. 

To her relief, Chat Noir’s face lights up, and a much wider smile slips across his face. “I’m still in shock, you know,” he tells her. If that’s his in-shock voice, then Marinette is thoroughly impressed. “But thank you. My father might have a bone to pick with this outfit if he ever found out.” 

Relief is cool against the heat. “Your father won’t be the only one with the bone to pick with you,” she replies. “The bell is quite a… bold statement.” 

He laughs once more. “I happen to like the bell the best, so I don’t know what your problem is.” 

He has no business to smile so brightly like that, Marinette thinks to herself. In front of her is the boy she’s turned down countless times—the same one she would wax lyrical to Tikki every night before bed. God, what a coincidence. Or really, what a stroke of luck. 

She’s jolted from her thoughts when Chat stabs his straw into his durian smoothie with a loud  _ pop.  _

“Do you want to talk?” Marinette offers. “Somewhere shadier, that is? You probably have a lot of questions. I know I do.” 

Chat nods. “Yeah. Yeah, that would work.” 

She starts towards the small door on the rooftop, then stops when she realizes that Chat hasn’t been following her. Instead, his gaze is fixed thoughtfully on his drink, like he’s contemplating something important. 

“Chat?” Marinette prompts. “Hey, are you okay?” 

Then his face brightens. “I’m  _ taro _ -bly sorry,” he says. “I just got distracted because you’re such a cu- _ tea _ .” 

Marinette’s jaw drops open. It’s not that she’s particularly surprised by the pun, given his penchant for dropping them at the most terrible ( _ taro _ -ble?) of moments, but she had half the mind to believe she’d permanently shocked the humour out of Chat Noir. Moreover, the fact that it’s  _ Adrien Agreste _ saying these so casually is still new to her. 

The grin he gives her is absolutely shit-eating, yet somehow, it works perfectly in her mind on Chat’s face as it does on Adrien’s. It also snaps her out of her reverie. 

“Now  _ my  _ head is going to explode,” Marinette grumbles. “C’mon, cat-boy. We have a lot to discuss.” 

He catches up with her with a quick jog, still slurping out of his boba. “I’m glad it’s you,” he tells her when they fall side-by-side. “In case you didn’t know.” 

Marinette hides her grin behind her own drink, but she thinks Chat catches it nonetheless. “Me too,” she tells him. “Even if you have terrible taste in boba.” 

“We wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have terrible taste,” he points out, and they both share a laugh.    
  


**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at [e-milieeee!](https://e-milieeee.tumblr.com/)
> 
> also listen i work at a boba shop and when im working on making drinks every time we get an order for a durian smoothie i cry inside bc u can smell it :'(


End file.
